Tag: writing

Recently I finished reading Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout and am half way through her novel, The Burgess Boys. As I read, I am pulled, bodily, into the character’s world. The people who populate her novels are not always (often not) likable, but damn they are natural. Her books are full of scenes depicting every day moments that feel very real, like spying on neighbors, not reading fiction… A woman is humiliated during a discussion and feels heat spreading over her scalp. Siblings communicate over a family crisis and it feels both warm and strained. Reading these passages, I shout in my head – “so lifelike!” In Olive Kitteridge, there is a moment where a long-time couple is trapped in a dangerous situation, but soon the danger becomes the threat to their marriage as they say aloud the unspeakable things that have chafed at their own thoughts about the other for years. It feels devastating.

Even as I am enjoying Ms. Strout’s novels (and I plan to go buy the rest as soon as I’m finished with these Burgess brothers), there is another feeling pricking at the back of my mind. Jealousy. Her prose is so effortless, her observation so poignant, that I can only wish I were so talented.

HBO recently made Olive Kitteridge into a mini series, nominated for several golden globes. I have not seen it yet, despite my curiosity, and my enjoyment of all things Frances McDormand. Truth is, I’m afraid. Any time I read a book, then watch the screen adaptation too soon, the television images always supplant the experience of reading.

The summer after freshmen year of college I worked at a library, using the opportunity to consume the paperback stacks as well as the more slender DVD collection. It was my goal to spend the summer reading a succession of novels followed by watching the film versions. Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden, then Memoirs of a Geisha directed by Rob Marshall, and so on. I did this with several titles, but soon realized that, while often beautiful, fun, or intriguing, the movies always left me with a feeling different than the books. Obviously, fitting a two hundred page novel into a two hour film necessitated some abridgment, but the direct comparison left the former feeling like a meal and later like a snack.

So when it comes to Ms. Strout’s enveloping works, I chose to wait just a little longer to let her words cement themselves before I move on to the equal brilliance of Ms. McDormand.

The other day I came across an interesting article by Jessica Lahey, in The Atlantic, entitled “What a plagiarizing 12 Year Old has in Common with a US Senator.” The article addresses the recent controversy surrounding Ph.D. candidate Zack Jud, sixth grader Lauren Arrington, and research involving lionfish. The thrust of the piece explains that when children make missteps, it is up to the adults surrounding them to point out the error, explain the reasoning and redirect the child toward accuracy and integrity.

When I was young, very young, I copied some illustrations from a picture book. My six or seven year-old drawing ability was not on par with the illustrator of the book, but I tried my best to copy the adorable hamster cartoons. They were depicted engaged in various activities like jumping rope, cooking and lounging at the beach. Pleased with my results I shared my drawings with my mom’s friend, an artist. I recall her telling me how creative the pictures were, and although I did not know why, her compliments felt somewhat sour.

As a youngster, I had not yet learned the complexity or even the concept of plagiarism. I loved drawing and took a few children’s level art classes where I often copied lines drawn by a teacher, or was encouraged to mimic the shapes and shades of famous works with my own colored pencils. I used many images for drawing practice – family photos, magazine ads, National Geographic spreads. Children learn by watching and imitating. In copying anything I enjoyed, including book illustrations, I was simply trying to understand how to make something that I admired. But eventually comes an awaking to the ideas of personal creativity, ownership of ideas, and credit.

I later understood my discomfort with the praise I received for “my” hamster drawings. I had copied the illustrations as a means to improve my technical abilities, while the friend instead praised the idea behind the drawings, which was not my own. I discerned the difference when I read a book about Helen Keller detailing the controversy surrounding “The Frost King” a published story written by a young Keller, but later revealed to be strikingly similar to “Frost Fairies” by Margaret Canby. I suddenly understood – ideas can belong to people, and taking someone’s idea is like taking their car or dog.

As a senior in college, a fellow English major and I gave a small talk about plagiarism to teachers at a local high school. The internet was fast becoming students’ research tool of choice and Wikipedia was catching on, so the teachers wanted to be able to keep pace. If students were going to google research topics, the school was going to google their final term papers right back. We focused our presentation on how to detect planned, intentional, internet-based plagiarism. We did not consider why eleventh graders might be stealing writings about the battle of Belmont, or appropriating lines of E.E. Cummings – only how to catch them. There was also little discussion of why plagiarism is such a threat to integrity, especially in young adults who are presented with new ideas daily, and are learning to differentiate for themselves, and others, the distinction between their own work and another’s.

I agree with Ms. Lahey, and others, including Jud himself, who have written or spoken recently about this lionfish research debacle, that parents have the responsibility to teach this concept to their kids (as well as a myriad of other things we expect them to learn as they reach maturity). Throw teachers in there too, because they often uncover the indiscretion and dole out the penalty. But just how should this lesson be conveyed to children?

We all agree that a person’s ideas are her own, and that taking those ideas for profit, or holding them out as your own without credit to the source, is wrong. We have copious amounts of intellectual property law to back this up. It is a black and white concept that appears easy to explain: plagiarism is like stealing and stealing is wrong. Here is something to consider though, if you unpack the idea of using unoriginal work, many gradations of gray are revealed.

For instance, in a law firm, the phrase “don’t reinvent the wheel” is often invoked. Meaning, if Fred down the hall wrote a motion on the same topic last week, why not use Fred’s motion and just make a few edits? The lawyer does not then footnote his motion attributing any turns of phrase to Fred. However, when it comes to referencing statues, regulations or case law, lawyers carefully and specifically cite each reference. The critical legal information is cited, but the common practice of sharing work within an office abrogates the need to credit Fred, even though motion number two borrowed entire paragraphs of Fred’s writing. This method prioritizes time-saving and presenting the best argument, over protection of any one person’s creativity in their work within a firm. On the other hand, such a practice would be completely unacceptable for a final paper in a college course.

Other arenas where using another’s work or ideas is objectionable are academia, invention and writing, among others. We all know that there are many themes that have been written about time and time again – man v. nature for instance. It is acceptable to write an original story with this theme, but wrong to copy words from The Old Man and the Sea. And then there are new works that are retellings of prior works – My Fair Lady and Pygmalion, as an example.

As children grow into adults, immersing themselves in different environments as they learn – academic, a specific profession, a field of work – they experience context based norms for crediting others work. As copyright law shows, it is possible for several people to have the same or very similar idea separately, yet we also want to protect ideas and the people who have them and develop them first. It’s a tricky concept for kids (and perhaps even some adults) but it is important that we all learn to respect the work of others, and use it to grow, but not as our own.

Yesterday I scooped up my laptop, grabbed a floppy sun hat and headed for the roof deck of my building. This was the day!I was going to start outlining the story that’s been percolating for a few weeks. I found a deck chair in the shade, facing the river, where I kicked off my shoes, opened my laptop, created a new doc and… nothing.

What is my problem? I was an English major in college, so I’m able to string a few words together. I even took creative writing courses! I wrote articles for my school newspaper, so I’m not afraid to have people read the words I’ve written. I also have a job that requires quite a bit of writing. So why is it that when I turn to story or essay writing I choke?

Instead of writing chapter one, I sat on my roof, watching the sky fade grey and contemplating this conundrum. And my conclusions are this … my writer’s block is fear based. Writing an article or drafting a document at work allows me to hide behind form, convention, and facts. The information is prescribed, I just need to make it flow. However, fiction is a wide open space waiting to be cultivated into anything. And that is where the problems starts and also the questions… Do I have a right to tell a story like this? Does this character seem to resemble my friend? Will people assume this is how I actually feel about said issues, when it is really just a character’s perspective? Is the plot too subtle? Too boring? Too poorly written?

Somehow in the last few years I’ve lost my writing nerve. It may take a bit of work, but my writing will turn out pretty boring unless I start taking a few risks.

What is the best environment for doing work? Do you prefer the staid silence of the library, the beeping-ringing-rushing of an office, the coziness of your own home? Everyone has an atmosphere that promotes the intersection of their own concentration and creativity.

For me it’s a coffee shop. When I focus on a project, I enjoy action around me, but not involving me. There is music, there are people. Being at a coffee shop makes me feel like I’m connected to the world, not locked away all day in a room with my computer. Yet, I can still convert all the music and chatter into background noise while I write or plan or organize.

Obviously I’m not the first person to discover the creative power of the coffee shop. Visit a cafe on any given day, and it is usually full of readers, writers or students with laptops and books scattered over the table tops. Coffee shops and cafes also have a historical presence as homes of great thinkers and literary scholars.

My love of coffee shops began while living in Edinburgh. I began to study at a coffee shop, the Elephant House, on the George IV bridge. The same cafe known for where J.K. Rowling wrote the first books of a certain popular series about british wizards. Sitting at a table in the back room, overlooking the Edinburgh castle and graveyard below, I can certainly see how she was inspired!